By Published On: April 17th, 2020123 words0.6 min read

I’m an ice cream cone.

I’m in your stomach.

My life was eleven minutes long.

I didn’t exist until the cream met the cone.

Before that, my body parts were just ingredients.

Most of my life consisted of torture inflicted by your tongue, your teeth.

Yet you held me in your hand lovingly.

You sat outside Andy’s Ice Cream Shoppe.

And waved at your friends passing by on their bikes.

You didn’t listen when I tried to tell you I’d rather melt.

That I didn’t think I deserved to be consumed.

And now you can’t hear my screams.

They can’t penetrate the thickness of your belly.

I hope you die from diabetes-related health issues.